


Tired and Emotional

by OakwoodOuroboros



Series: Winter on the West Coast [1]
Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: 14 year old Dipper, 15 year old Wirt, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, M/M, Romance, This is supposed to be cute, a lot of it, and whoops I shouldn't have named this this way, as cheesy as it can get, didn't read enough Private Eye at the time, mentions of domestic abuse, not about alcohol intoxication at all, sorry if you misunderstood, the only reason I wrote this is because I felt sorry for all you shippers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 12:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10697388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OakwoodOuroboros/pseuds/OakwoodOuroboros
Summary: Travelling, especially when it gets this cold, can be a very uncomfortable experience. Good thing Dipper has a nice shoulder to use as a pillow.A simple bus romance.





	Tired and Emotional

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nour386](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nour386/gifts).



> Ok, so this is embarrassing. Embarrassingly corny, I spent an embarrassing amount of time on this, and it is embarrassingly badly written. This is an embarrassing blow to my reputation as a genfic writer, and the reason I wrote this is due to an embarrassingly short chat reply that I had with a fellow Gravity Falls and Over the Garden Wall fan: “Listen, it's my otp and I'm seriously starved for content” (sorry this was supposed to be part of a private chat, but you know...). That one sentence made me feel so bad for you that I decided to go against my golden rule of never writing a serious romance fic, so here it is: Nour386, this is dedicated to you for that one and only reason.
> 
> Contains a small passage from the book Life of Pi by Yann Martel. I don’t own the rights to this book, nor to Gravity Falls or Over the Garden Wall.

  
Dipper was frustrated. Sure, he did commit himself to go and see his Grunkle Stan in Modesto sooner or later, and who wouldn’t want to anyway? But the few hours he managed to spend with him were overshadowed by how awful the rest of the day had been.

First, he had forgotten to pack his gloves. That mightn’t have been a problem, apart from the fact that the West coast was currently going through a cold snap, and despite his efforts in trying to wake up the stiff fingers by stuffing them under his armpits, they still remained stubbornly rigid.

He might have been able to stand this while waiting for the bus that would eventually bring him to the not-so-far town, and he still remembered his hopeful thoughts as he stood there between the various other travelers on that cold winter morning. Ah yes, foolish as he was, he had thought that the inside of the bus would be heated, warm and crisp and just perfect to get rid of the aching in his extremities. Foolish indeed.

The bus was indeed heated, but the main drawback was that it was a sweltering tropical heat that made him shed his clothes faster than he had pulled them on that morning (considering that his room faced North, it was usually pretty quick). Even when he was down to his T-shirt, it was still too hot for him, and he had to take solace in the brief gust of freezing wind which would chill the place for the few seconds that the doors would open when someone asked to get off.

Later though, he realized that it might not have been such a good idea to get a seat too close to the doors, for two reasons. The first was that after a good half-dozen stops, his nose started running uncontrollably, and of course, not having a cold at the time he had set out, had nothing to stench the flow apart from the sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt. Secondly, he had chosen to sit in one of the front rows of the vehicle, which he had forgotten were usually taken up by people with motion sickness. The bus driver, being very close to his Grunkle’s level when it came to safe driving, did not help at all in that matter, and Dipper, who was one of those few blessed individuals who could usually read without problem in a moving vehicle had to keep his book safe in his bag for fear of having it damaged by some green-faced passenger.

When he finally got to his next stop however, another surprise stood waiting for him: the town bus, due to ice and snow drifts, had been canceled for the whole morning. He had therefore no other choice than to walk to the place his great uncle was staying at, a shabby hotel (quite astutely called “Shabbie’s Hotel”) on the edge of town. Of course, the first thing he did once he got there was to ask Stan angrily why he hadn’t bothered to drive down just a little further so that he and Mabel didn’t have to spend practically a whole day traveling to get to the town. He was quickly pacified by Stan’s tale however, of how it was dangerous for him to get any closer to San Francisco than he already was due to the gang members he had aggravated a few years back by kidnapping their guinea pig mascot and demanding ransom for it. He was sure that they were still out for his blood even forty years after.

They mainly stayed in the tiny room, just discussing simple things like the latest Ducktective episodes, Mabel’s visit earlier on that week (he hadn’t been able to go with her that time, stupid band practice), how Soos and Wendy and all the other people were doing back in Gravity Falls, and of course, Ford.

“Ah, you know how he is, kid,” Stan had told him, stirring a sugar into his coffee. “Difficult to get him out of the basement, ya know? Nothing that shouldn’t be expected.”

It hurt Dipper a bit to hear that Ford had gone back to his old habits, but still, Stan had assured him many a time that he still got to see him very regularly. He had let Soos keep the Shack and he took care of it grandly, Stan retiring from his life as a businessman for good (“but not as a conman!” he would say every time this was mentioned) once he had come back from his around-the-world trip with his brother.

Anyway, time had gone by too fast for Dipper’s taste, and before he knew it it was time to go if he didn’t want to miss his bus back to Piedmont. It had been a difficult parting for the two of them, both knowing that they wouldn’t be able to see each other until next summer, and they promised to call and keep in touch until then. Dipper even saw a tear escape one of the old man’s eyes, he was sure of it, but being the person he was Stan blamed it on his conjunctivitis acting up on him again.

At least this time Dipper had the chance to take the city bus, which wasn’t a pleasant experience but was better than walking all the way to the main bus stop for the inter-city buses. He did however manage to take it in the wrong direction, resulting in him having to call home to tell his parents that he could only be back by about midnight rather than nine. They were of course thoroughly exasperated by this, calling him out on how it had not been a good idea for him to set out alone in the first place, how he should have brought someone along with him who knew Modesto better than he did, but they quietened down after a while when they realized that there wasn’t really much that they could do about it.

So here he was now, pacing under the near-empty bus shelter, trying to keep the circulation going in his feet and hands and cursing the world around him for being such an almighty pain in the neck. He pulled out his phone, rubbing the screen with his sleeve when it misted over from the temperature change, checking the time and comparing it to the one shown on the peeling paper stuck to the cork board with a thumbtack. Fifteen minutes. Good, at least Bill hadn’t decided to come back from his stony state and make his day even worse by messing with the space-time continuum and forcing him to wait longer than he should have.

Twenty-five minutes later, the long-awaited vehicle’s headlights cut through the snow which had started to fall and Dipper got on, very angry and tired and cold. Not bothering to count out his change, he just handed the driver a bill, took his ticket and coins and was about to move on when a sharp cry struck him from behind, followed by a huffing, angry voice.

“I-I’m sorry! L-look, I’ll...”

“Just hurry up and buy your ticket! I’ve got a schedule to keep!”

Dipper spun around immediately, not quite tired enough to not correct injustice or help someone in need. And indeed, the person who had got on the bus just behind him was picking up coins which had spilled over the filthy floor under the driver’s glare. The people behind him just gave him a dull, disinterested look as they pushed passed him, bought their ticket and moved on.

Slightly disgusted by this display of complete and utter lack of compassion, Dipper elbowed his way back to the front of the bus, dropped to one knee and scraped together the last few circular pieces of metal. It was only when he was about to dump them into the baffled person’s hand that he actually got a look at his face, and what he saw there made him stop and stare for a second, his hand hovering over the one that the stranger had extended just a little longer than he would have normally before letting the coins drop into his palm.

The first thing that struck him were the tear tracks. They were dry now, but they had obviously been flowing for a while, two angry red, thin riverbeds cutting through skin that looked way too pale in comparison. Pale, that is apart for the bruise he sported on his jaw, nearly impossible to see from this angle but quite fresh and painful-looking nonetheless.

These marks of hurt didn’t seem important on the scale of things, however, because when he looked past these, what really caught Dipper’s attention was how interesting this person’s face was as a whole. There was something in the slope of his aquiline nose which went well with the odd central lock of hair that fell onto his forehead, something in the curve of his brows that completed the way his ears poked out from behind his hair. There was just… something there. For all he was worth, Dipper couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was definitely there.

“You’re gonna stay there all day or do I have to kick you off the bus?”

The aggressive statement made them both snap out of their trances, and the boy Dipper had just met jumped to his feet and counted out the change as quickly as he could. Grumpily, the driver gave him the piece of paper that he had worked so hard to get and moved back to the button that was used to close the doors.

“Th-thank you…” mumbled the stranger, who shouldered his bag and made himself ready to move on down the central alley. Dipper’s curiosity was aroused though, and when that happened, it was difficult to get it to die down again.

“Wait! Er, tell you what, can you… sit next to me? This bus is bound to fill up when we get closer to San Fran, and I would rather have you than a wailing five-year-old to sit next to for the rest of the journey.”

There we go, he had tried, now he just had to hope for the best. What if he said no? What if he thought he was weird and didn’t want to sit next to him at all, what if he was just shrugged off and left to sit in the back of the bus with all the dangerous-looking older teens? Wait, why was he apprehensive about this anyway?

The other boy looked at him for a second, letting a mumbled “sure” pass his lips after a few seconds. Now Dipper was backtracking, scared by his own thoughts. This guy could legitimately call him a creep if he wanted to, because that was just really, really weird, even for him. Maybe it would be better if he sat away from this guy, after all.

However, he realized that it was too late when he walked over to the part of the bus with the least occupied seats, near the middle, and looked at him as if expecting him to follow. He did so begrudgingly, trying to force down the glee that was climbing up his throat and that he could find absolutely no explanation for, no matter how much he thought it through.

“I’m stopping at Piedmont, do you get off before or after me?” he asked when he got to his level, hands trembling nervously in his pockets, clammy and still slightly frostbitten.

“Terminus,” the stranger replied. “I guess I’m taking the window seat, then.”

“Yeah, well whatever suits you best.”

He didn’t add anything and just sat down, and in that movement Dipper’s eyes were attracted to the odd shape of his clothing: the flow of it was ample, not restricted like a coat.

“Hey, cool cape,” he said before he could stop the foolish remark from passing his lips. The other boy looked up sharply, his fearful expression showing that he expected some sort of follow-up comment, but he relaxed once Dipper showed no sign of opening his big mouth again.

“Thanks. It isn’t practical, but… I see it as l-lucky.”

A small smile broke out on his lips and he smoothed the fabric down fondly over his lap. Dipper took his spot next to him, putting his small travel bag on his knees. Immediately, he realized that he was going to need some sort of distraction if he was to not have his eyes wander over to the person next to him. He pulled out the book he had not yet managed to read much of today, a fairly new copy of _Life of Pi._

It had been given to him by his dad on the last day of Hanukkah, a couple of days back. He had described it as “an interesting read”, and he had understood why yesterday night, when he decided to give the book a try, and had gotten three quarters through it before Mabel reminded him of the fact that he didn’t have that many shirts without tooth marks on them anymore, and that it may be a good idea to get some sleep.

All day, he had been impatient to get back to the story, and it had been literal torture being torn between dying of boredom and possibly getting the book ruined by some poor person who had problems with controlling their stomach when traveling. But now that he finally had the chance to continue where he left off, he just couldn’t quite find it in himself to do so.

“ _The anxious fish got away, just missing my net..._ ” Wait, hadn’t he just read that sentence? Several times, even? His mind was definitely elsewhere. Maybe if he turned to face the alley a little more...

“I-I”m sorry to bother you with this, but...”

Dipper’s plan to turn away from the one whose presence had been distracting him failed when the person asked him a question, in that shy, low mumble that he had used before. They made eye contact briefly, but the boy dropped his gaze very quickly, a slight red blush on his pale cheeks that Dipper wasn’t sure had been there earlier on or not.

“I-I’m just a little perturbed. I d-don’t know your name, that’s all. S-sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Dipper tried to comfort him, using a stronger voice that he hoped sounded kind, yet detached. “I guess that we haven’t really properly introduced each other. Dipper Pines, high schooler, at your service.”

He stuck out a hand, only half serious, but he was surprised by the strong handshake and raised eyebrow that he received in response. “D-Dipper? Like Ursa M-Major?”

Immediately, Dipper felt incredibly grateful towards this person, one of the only ones that didn’t call him out on his nickname, associating it with his height and calling him “Little Dipper” or something similar, but unfortunately it was short-lived.

“That’s r-really, really weird. L-like a she-bear?”

“Well, yes,” he accepted. At least he knew his Latin. “How about you?”

“J-just Wirt.”

“Wirt as in… Warren? William?” Dipper tried.

“N-no, just Wirt, I said.”

“Wirt as in… Wirtholdt?” he said, a little mockingly. “Just joking. You can’t call my name weird if yours is just as bad as mine,” he pointed out.

“I know,” he replied, sighing in a way that, to Dipper, sounded like it contained all the melancholy in this world. Again, he was drawn in by that face, like some sort of powerful vortex. His nose was a bit red at the end, as if he had a cold. Fascinating.

Wirt’s eyes met his own again, and he was reminded that he had been staring for far too long, _again._ He quickly turned away, picked up his book, but decided against it when he remembered his previous failures. Instead, he pulled out his phone and started texting Mabel:

 

Me: hey sis.

 

Mabel: ur in trouble

 

Me: old news, but it was definitely worth it

 

Mabel: :D

 

Mabel: bet he gave u dating advice

 

Me: no he didn’t, talked about shack and stuff

 

Mabel: don’t believe u

 

Mabel: but ill pretend I do

 

Mabel: ok wassup why aren’t u reading the book dad gave u

 

Me: how did you know… ok, you’re gonna say twin perception/instincts

 

Me: or something like that

 

Mabel: touché

 

Mabel: no really wassup *large-eyed kitten sticker*

 

Dipper sighed, a little disappointed but not surprised at his twin’s insistence. He should have known better before trying to talk to her to get out of this mess, but now he was stuck.

 

Me: nothing, rough day

 

Mabel: don’t believe u

 

Mabel: but ill pretend I do

 

Me: u didn’t even type out those messages, u just copy/pasted them

 

Mabel: :D

 

Mabel: oh no mom’s calling for dinner I cant leave u!!!! but I have to!!! sorry broseph, youll have to wait to pour ur days sorrows over me later

 

Me: fine, im sure I can wait that long

 

Mabel: :D

 

Mabel: ok catch u later

 

Dipper put his phone away, slipping it into his pocket and lying back against the seat, exhaling loudly. He turned his head to face Wirt again, just to take a peek and make sure that he’s still alright, he tried to convince himself. He was surprised to see that he wasn’t peering out the window, observing the passing of cars on the motorway or the rapid rush of snowflakes as he would have imagined him doing, but rather they were locked on the contrary on an object sitting on his lap.

“Here, do you want to read the summary?” Dipper suggested, passing the book whose cover had seemed to fascinate the taller boy for the last few minutes. He instantly blushed deeper than he had seen him before, waving his hands about and stuttering more intensely as he did.

“S-sorry, I-I-I don’t want t-to impose it’s…”

“Look, it’s ok. I’m not reading it right now, so knock yourself out. Please, I’d be happy if you did. It’s a good book.”

Wirt returned to his previous quiet self, nodding obediently and taking the book from him, politely thanking Dipper as he did. He watched him as he scanned the few lines that the editor had deemed fit to represent the contents, entertaining himself with how Wirt’s eyes would move across a line slowly, then skip rapidly to the other side.

He lifted his eyes back up to meet his when he finished doing so, passing the paperback back to him.

“I-it seems interesting, but I d-don’t understand what a tiger would be doing there. And… I don’t know, that d-doesn’t seem very realistic...”

Dipper smiled at him, understanding his uncertainty. It had taken him quite some time to get past the weird impression that the summary had given him and actually start reading the book as well.

“Well, you see… it’s the kind of story that you can only get a feel of if you actually read it,” he said, looking at the bright colors of the cover fondly. “It’s way more complex than just a person being stuck on a raft with a tiger. There’s a philosophy to it. As I said, it’s hard to explain.”

“I think I understand.”

Dipper nodded silently, his attention yet again distracted from the book he held in his hands by the person sitting next to him. Wirt was a little… unkempt, to say the least.

Now that he was looking out the window again, Dipper didn’t hesitate to look him up and down thoroughly before the chance escaped him again. The bag he held was rather small for traveling, even he had taken more stuff with him than what could be contained in that tiny little cloth sack Wirt was dragging around. Not only that, but from what he could see past the loosely-fastened cloak, the button-up sweater he wore didn’t seem to be right, the shirt wobbling to one side where one of the buttons seemed to have been forced into the wrong hole. Apart from that, his hair was a mess, his eyes ringed by deep purple bags, and the bruise yet again stood out to Dipper against Wirt’s skin, this time far more prominent from where he was sitting.

“Hey, erm… Wirt?” he heard himself ask, immediately regretting it once the words left his mouth, but continuing onward anyway. “Do you go to high school around here? I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you around for gatherings and such...”

He decided to divert the subject from what he was initially going to ask, his first choice of a question -‘Why do you look like a teenage runaway?’- probably not being the best of conversation starters. Wirt turned to face him, mild shock flitting across his face for a second before he dropped his gaze again. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, giving his response in a voice that seemed a little quieter than before, to the point where Dipper had to strain to hear it over the drone of the bus’s engine.

“I-I don’t exactly l-live here… I j-just came over to spend C-Christmas with my dad...”

As soon as he said that, he froze, his face losing all the color that it had regained since he had entered the bus and a flash of absolute terror appearing in his eyes. Dipper, at first puzzled, took a few seconds to realize why he had changed his demeanor so quickly after having uttered his last sentence, but when he did, everything fell into place.

“We’re only the twenty-second of December today. You left early,” Dipper pointed out, not wanting to make Wirt uncomfortable by adding his own theory on _why_ , exactly, he had left.

He nodded mutely in response. “My d-dad’s… my dad, I g-guess. Not much we c-can do about it,” he added a little late, trying to tag on a chuckle, but unsuccessfully doing so. It came out dry and heartless.

The conversation fell flat for about an hour after that. Dipper continued to observe Wirt’s profile while he looked out at the passing road, but he couldn’t find it in himself to ask him anything else after the fiasco that has been that last piece of dialog. After a while, he felt himself growing drowsy.

“Hey, Wirt, can you...” He stifled a yawn. “...wake me up if we get to Piedmont and I’m still asleep? I’m going to catch a couple of winks.”

He nodded distractedly, but that was all the acknowledgment Dipper needed before he settled down more comfortably in the seat and drifted off.

The sleep itself was quite uneventful, no pesky dreams to keep him from resting properly and no small wake-ups to fragment his sleep time. For some reason, he was completely relaxed and slept better than he had in a while, even though common sense dictates that there’s no way a moving vehicle could ever be more comfortable than a bed. It was only when he woke up, the discreet feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket pulling him out of his stupor, that he understood why.

The first thing that came to him was the fact that he had his head resting against something, something warm and cozy that he just wanted to hug tight against his chest, like the giant teddy bears that he would see as prizes in fairgrounds but could only ever dream of owning. There was also the unfamiliar, but just as comforting weight of heavy fabric resting on his body, covering him practically from head to toe, the musty smell of old cloth mixing with several others, like the one of yellowed books and rosin.

Reluctantly, Dipper opened his eyes when his phone buzzed again, demanding his attention. He was riding in a bus, he remembered, going back home after he had visited Grunkle Stan who had kidnapped a guinea pig forty years back. Then he remembered Wirt.

Slowly, he came to the realization that he had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and that when he looked down at himself, careful not to move his head for fear of disturbing the taller boy, he had been covered in the cape that his neighbor had taken off and had laid over him like a blanket.

Again, he moved his eyes around, and saw that Wirt had taken out a small notebook from his bag and was currently writing in it, short, jagged, but still beautiful writing covering the left hand page, a pencil working on filling the right one as well. From where he was, Dipper had a perfect view on the pad. His curiosity taking over, he scanned the first few couple of lines:

 

“ _...constellations across a sky that I keep hidden against my breast,_

_None will see the beautiful lie that still is held against my chest,_

_I thought the waves of judgment to be crashing against my arbor,_

_But now I see their true strength is to push and tug against my armor,_

_Frail as it is, it’s unlikely to succeed,_

_In keeping the secret that I truly need.”_

 

Dipper read through the rest of the page, up until where Wirt’s pencil had paused in thought. Or maybe not, Dipper reflected, when suddenly the book was snapped shut and his current cushion shifted slightly, before falling deadly still. Slowly, he turned his face upwards.

Wirt was looking down at him with an expression of utter horror on his face. Their eyes locked, and for a second nothing happened, but then both of them blushed very deeply. Dipper bolted upright, trying to get away from the intimacy of the situation and coughed into his hand. The silence was too heavy though, and he felt like he needed to break it, despite the mortification that he felt made his blush burn into his face permanently.

“S-sorry to have fallen asleep on you,” mumbled Dipper, stuttering for the first time since he met Wirt.

“Erm… y-yeah, that’s alright… N-no! Sorry, I meant...”

Wirt’s sentence trailed off into silence, Dipper feeling that he was flustered despite not seeing him. He had fixed his eyes on one of the seats further down the row since earlier on, and he was not ready to look anywhere else yet. That didn’t mean that his strange attraction to Wirt didn’t decrease, on the contrary, he had problems not letting his eyes wander back to him. The silence was getting at him as well, his thoughts filled with the few lines of poetry he had read, looping over and over in his head like a catchy tune.

“Y-your poetry is really good by the way… I like it a lot.”

He heard Wirt shuffle about a bit. “D-do you r-really mean that? Or a-are you saying that j-just because you f-feel sorry for me?”

Dipper sighed through his nose. So he knew that he knew that he wasn’t in the best of situations.

“I really do mean it. I really enjoy h-how you arrange the words, how you make an atmosphere out of them… I don’t really understand how you do it, but you do it better than I have ever seen anyone do so before.”

Wirt remained silent for a few seconds, and Dipper decided that it was all right to turn back to him now, despite the still tense atmosphere that sat heavily between them. When he did so, he immediately caught Wirt’s stare on him, who blushed instantly just as deeply as before.

“Th-thank you. M-most people don’t underst-stand it, and I know it’s something I sh-should get rid of, but I j-just can’t...”

He coughed a bit, a pathetic attempt to hide a sob that was given away by his moist eyes anyway. Dipper felt the overwhelming urge to lean forward and hug him, maybe pat his back to comfort him, but he only just held back in time. This was not his sister, he had to remind himself. He had only met this person a handful of hours ago, there was no way he could do that. It was too intimate, something that only close friends did. Falling asleep on his shoulder had been an accident, reading over his shoulder had been an accident… yet he couldn’t forget the cape that still rested over his knees, the scratchy but warm fabric a testament to Wirt’s kindness towards him despite the circumstances.

Well, he could go for the next best thing, he supposed.

Dipper leaned forward, Wirt inching away from him, a little fearful, but he managed to catch his hand before he could pull that away too. It was a little clammy to the touch, but nothing to be disgusted over. He stopped trying to wriggle away when their eyes met, and he froze, pinned down by Dipper’s intense stare.

“Don’t. If it makes you happy, if it’s something you enjoy doing, don’t.”

He leaned back in his seat, but didn’t let his gaze waver nor did he let go of his hand. It went without words that Dipper would keep the hand hostage until he got an answer out of Wirt, something to confirm his fear that he might actually follow through with his dismissal of his natural lyricism. Or maybe he was just procrastinating, waiting for as long as necessary before letting go of the hand. At this point, he couldn’t be sure.

“I… I’m sorry. I-I’m not usually like th-this, it’s just m-my dad… He d-doesn’t approve of m-my interests. I-It’s always a m-mess when I visit him, b-but I keep th-thinking that n-next time… Next time we will get along, y-you know?”

“...and he treats you badly for that?”

“N-no, it’s just that… w-well, most of the time I used t-to just l-listen to him go on and on a-about how m-much of a disappointment I am and I-I would stop doing my stuff f-for a few m-months… but then I’d b-be miserable, s-so I’d start writing again… and m-my brother w-would help me too...”

“But what happened this time?”

Wirt sighed, pinching his brow with his free hand, losing eye contact and not taking it back up again once he did.

“...th-this October, m-my brother and I had an accident. We… we nearly died. I learned a l-lot from that experience. And… this t-time, I stood up to him.”

“...and he hit you for that?” Dipper asked quietly, following up a short silence, just to make sure that Wirt was still all right. He seemed to be holding it together, his lowered eyes moist but not overflowing. He heaved a sigh, pulling his eyelids closed for a second, before nodding.

“I-I guess that I w-was sick of him trying t-to change me. He s-still managed to this time around, I’m not like this usually, Greg’ll be able to t-tell you so. He’s m-my brother, by the w-way.”

“...so what happened? Did you just… run off? Do you need a safe place to stay tonight?” Dipper continued to ask, relentlessly, now even more concerned about Wirt’s situation than he had been earlier on. Domestic abuse is never something to be dealt with lightly.

He chuckled a little, more light heartedly than he had before, but still sounding heavy and somehow fake. “Nah, I t-told my mom. She got me a l-last minute flight back home, sh-she just wanted me away from him. B-besides, I g-gave him the old k-kickeroo before I l-left as well, even though I d-doubt he even f-felt it...”

Slowly, Dipper loosened his hold on Wirt’s fingers, fighting the impulse to thread them through his instead, reassured as he could be for the time being.

“Y-you know… I barely know you, b-but I opened up to y-you like that… Thanks for l-listening to me.”

“It’s nothing. You just needed someone to talk to, and I just happened to be here. It’s always better to let it out rather than keep it bottled up, anyway.”

He didn’t expect it when Wirt launched himself at him, bringing his gangly arms around his torso in a tight hug, burying his nose in the crook of Dipper’s neck. For a second, he remained stiff in the embrace, but then he wrapped his arms around Wirt and returned the hug. It still felt a little embarrassing, his ears burning through the fabric of his hat, but it felt right, in a way that was impossible to describe.

They sank into each other, tension leeching out of their bodies slowly. It was only when they realized that the bus had stopped and a handful of people passed them by that they untangled, avoiding making eye contact with each other. Still without looking Dipper straight in the eye, Wirt lifted his cape off his knees, to then pull it up so as to cover both of them in its warmth.

When the bus jolted forward again, getting forever closer to the end of their journey, Wirt turned to Dipper and yet again captured him in his gaze.

“H-hey, it’s not fair. I-I’ve told you enough about m-myself, now it’s your turn to spill the b-beans.”

“What do you want to know?” Dipper asked, voicing the blankness in his mind instead of just staring silently, tongue tied and fixated by the deep brown eyes in front of him.

“W-Well… you didn’t s-seem very happy when you were waiting at the s-stop. Rough day?”

He had been watching him since then, then. Under any other circumstance, he would have found it creepy, but he just felt touched at the implication. As if… oh no.

He thought that Wirt was cute.

This could not be good.

“So… Y-you ok?” Wirt asked, his brow a little crinkled, his face closer than he should have ever let him. Dipper coughed into his hand, a little away from Wirt, just as an excuse to mask his unease.

“Yes, fine. Er… yeah. I visited my great uncle because he was passing through. He lives in Oregon, so it’s rare to see him come over. I… I’m sorry, I need to get this call.”

It was Mabel, unsurprisingly. Dipper winced when he saw the number of messages and missed calls that he hadn’t answered before resigning himself to his fate and hitting the answer button.

“DIPPER! I KNEW IT!...”

He winced, holding the phone a little way away from his ear. Once he was certain that she had calmed down, he brought the device close enough to speak into it:

“Mabel, what’s up? Can’t you answer the phone like a _civil_ person for once in your life?”

“But Dippeeeeeeer… I’m just so happy that you’ve got a date! At last! My purpose in this life is finally complete!”

His mind immediately went blank with panic, glancing quickly over to Wirt, but he didn’t seem to have heard Mabel’s joyful squeal from where he was. He cocked his head, his expression puzzled, and Dipper found himself melt inside. Remembering who was on the other end of the line, he returned his focus to his sister once again.

“No, you’re wrong, he’s just...”

“Hah! You’ve just admitted that there’s someone with you. Mabel one, Dipper zero.”

Dipper sighed, making sure that she heard him through the line. “How would you know that, anyway?”

“Tss… Nothing can beat Alpha Twin sense when mixed with woman’s intuition, Dipper! I’m aware of every one of your movements, all the time!”

“Not funny, Mabel,” he snapped at her, cold sweat breaking out along his spine. “Bill”.

“Oh… sorry. Yeah, well… I’m not wrong, aren’t I?”

Again, he sighed into the phone. “Well… you’re not wrong, let’s put it that way.”

“YES! Is he nice? Is he cute? Does he look like a sock puppet?...”

Not feeling up to the mountain of weird and wacky questions that she was going to try and get him to answer, he hung up on her. It wasn’t unkind, she would understand, but he knew that as soon as he got back home he would have to answer them all, and some more that she may have thought up meanwhile.

“My sister,” he explained to Wirt, shifting a bit to put the phone back in his jean’s pocket. “She can be a bit intense.”

“Ah, d-don’t worry about that. M-my brother’s the same, always full of energy, but I guess that it’s normal, he’s y-younger than me, after all.”

“Well, we’re twins, so that argument doesn’t really stand.”

“You are younger than me, though,” Wirt pointed out. The atmosphere became uncomfortable for a second, but was easily broken by Dipper’s outrage.

“What makes you think that? I’m short, but I can’t be a year or two off your age. How old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

“F-fifteen,” he mumbled back, his eyes downcast. He looked resentful of his own words, somehow, even though there wasn’t really much reason to be so. It was just an observation, after all.

“Well, I’m fourteen, so you see? Don’t stop at appearances.”

“All r-right…”

Dipper really didn’t want to stay too long with his thoughts if he could help it, so he broke out a bottle of water from his bag, just to have something to do that didn’t involve speaking to Wirt or thinking about these weird feelings he was having towards him. He took a sip, but to his dismay, he hadn’t thought that the driver would choose just that second to brake suddenly, the action followed by a blast of the horn that instantly woke all the drowsy travelers on the vehicle. The action had him sputtering on the water, then coughing on it when a good portion decided to go down the wrong way.

His first reaction, inexplicably, was to shove Wirt’s cape out of the way so that it wouldn’t get wet. Even his book didn’t receive that one, instinctive reaction that allowed him to protect Wirt’s possession, even though it would be fine once dried out, whilst his book would suffer a great deal more from the onslaught. It was only after that that his attention returned to the suffocating feeling that he tried to force up from his throat.

“Dipper! Hold on, y-you’ll be all right, I’ll just...”

Dipper felt his back being patted, lightly at first, but with more force as Wirt came to the conclusion that that alone wasn’t having much effect. He was soon breathing comfortably again, having to ask a still panicked Wirt to stop.

“I’m sorry...”

“Stop apologizing, please,” Dipper asked him, still looking about to assess the mess he had made. “It doesn’t sound genuine anymore if you do it too much.”

He was sure that he heard Wirt mumble: “But it is”, but he ignored it, still looking around for his book, which had mysteriously disappeared.

“Oh, s-sor… I m-mean, were you looking for this?...” he asked, handing the small blue paperback to him. Their fingers brushed as they did so and Dipper looked away, pushing down the bubble of joy that swelled in his chest.

“I tried to s-save it, I might have not been quick enough though...”

Dipper turned the object over in his hands, checking it for damage, but found none apart for a few specks on the cover which were easily wiped off the glossy paper. When he looked back up to Wirt to thank him though, he couldn’t help but let his jaw drop along with the novel.

The look on his face… it was the cutest, most stunning he had seen yet. He looked happy. All the expressions he had seen displayed there had up to then been tainted with a certain sadness, and this was the only time he had seen that persona crack and reveal another Wirt. He seemed relaxed, the smile and crinkle in his eyes kind, maybe a little perplexed, but visibly proud of himself for having helped Dipper. The latter now regretted the harsh words he had just said against the boy’s constant apologetic tic, but yet again, that might have been what had helped Wirt. Dipper had made it clear that he didn’t have to watch his step around him, and that meant the world to him, who had just spent too long a time with a person who criticized him at any given occasion.

He didn’t feel guilty about those grasshopper feelings in his gut for this person anymore. With that one smile, he had erased what he thought as right or wrong, and only left what was true and what wasn’t. It was true that he had feelings for this near complete stranger, and everything else could be false for all he knew, because in that instant, he knew, without any doubt, that he loved therefore he was.

He leaned forward slowly, Wirt’s expression not changing, but in the end he lost his nerve and curled his head to fit it in the crook of Wirt’s neck, hugging him lightly as he did. Wirt returned it almost immediately, gently, not in the rib-crushing way he had earlier on. Their legs tangled under the cape, seatbelts cutting into their sides, but Dipper couldn’t care less. He must have dropped off again, for how long, he didn’t know, but all he knew was that he was awoken by the feeling of something soft, as light as a feather brush against his forehead, just where his old brown hat gave way to the part of skin that wasn’t covered in embarrassing birthmark.

It took a few seconds, but Dipper understood what the feeling was, and immediately looked to a painfully red Wirt’s face. His smile was wider than earlier on, and Dipper understood that he too was overwhelmed with happiness.

“Y-you too…?” Dipper asked, feeling foolish, because he knew the answer full well anyway.

Wirt nodded, before immediately leaning forward again and repeating the light peck of his lips on Dipper’s forehead as he had before. Of course, that was when his dormant cold decided to make itself known again, and he sneezed.

“Y-you sneeze like a kitten,” Wirt pointed out, a cornily wide smile splitting his face in half. “It’s...”

“Don’t you dare.”

“...very cute.”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. This was it. Dipper straightened out to his full height, Wirt adjusted his position, and they slowly sank towards each other, lips parted and eyes half lidded. There was ten, five, two, half an inch between them, and it was as they were about to touch that the bus braked brusquely, throwing them both off kilter and away from each other.

“Piedmont! Anyone for Piedmont, last stop before San Francisco? I’m not hanging around here, so hurry up!” the driver shouted to the nearly empty bus. Under other circumstances, they would have had more time to stop here, but he was obviously tired and ready to cut corners to get home faster.

“Me! Wait! This is my stop!” Dipper shouted, trying to halt the driver’s eagerness to drive off.

“Dipper, I…”Wirt tried, his eyes now downcast, blush still lingering on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry Wirt, there isn’t another bus after this one,” Dipper explained reluctantly, quickly gathering his stuff and shoving it into his bag. When he came across his book, however, he hesitated for a second.

“Wirt, please lend me the pencil you used earlier on. Quickly, please, I haven’t got much time.”

Confusedly, Wirt scrabbled about and found the writing utensil. He gave it to Dipper with trembling hands, who snatched it up quickly. He didn’t hesitate a second, even though it was against his morals, to scribble down his phone number on the first page, before shoving both the novel and the pencil back into the poet’s hands.

“Dipper, wait...”

“No it’s all right,” Dipper said, throwing the cape off his knees and snatching up his bag. “Phone me when you get home, or if you have any problems getting back. Are you sure that you don’t want to get off here?”

“N-no… I’m sorry, I can’t...”

“Last call for Piedmont!”

“Dipper,” said Wirt, catching Dipper’s hand a second before he turned towards the door. “We’ll meet again. I p-promise.”

And then he was gone. He hurried out the bus, didn’t even manage to see him through the window as it sped off to its next destination, putting distance between them that couldn’t be measured in miles, but in longing.

Dipper watched the vehicle disappear into the distance, the red taillights grounding him, the only thing that kept his tears and screams of frustration at bay for the time being. A car pulled up, and Mabel popped out of it, walking up to him silently apart for her crunching footsteps in the fallen snow. Softly, she settled a hand on her brother’s shoulder, and when he turned to her, her expression could only be described as comforting.

“You must have really liked him if you gave him the book that you were reading.”

The detail was so weird, so silly, but so incredibly true that Dipper couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing, right there, in the frosty, snowy evening. His feet and hands burned with the biting cold, and an emptiness filled his chest and weighed him down to the point that he had trouble breathing, but all in all, this day hadn’t turned out too bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not likely to repeat itself, so I hope you liked it while it lasted.  
> Here, have some inspirational [ fanart. ](http://chamiryokuroi.tumblr.com/post/159699794036/that-one-ship-i-said-i-would-not-post-anything)
> 
> Edit:  
> *wails* Thank you all so much for all the kind comments and love in general! I can't beleive that my one and only (or is it just the first? ;) ) attempt at a romance fic has made so many of you so happy! Nour386, thanks a ton for putting this insane idea in my brain, and special thanks also go to chamiryokuroi for their lovely lovely LOVELY [ fanart ](http://chamiryokuroi.tumblr.com/post/159883923591/inspired-by-this-really-good-fic-tired-and)! ARGH! SO FLUFFY I'M GONNA DIE!  
> Also, this was kudoed by the legendary skimmingthesurface. I feel honored.


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